Chapter 6“I’ve had a letter from Lucy,” Sylvia said to Walter, one evening in the first week of August. They were in the sitting room and had lit the fire despite it being the middle of summer. It had a been a foul day after a foul fortnight, summer rain pelting down non-stop. Walter had deigned to stay for an hour after supper before going back out to the coach-house, tempted by the offer of whisky. “She wants to come and stay.”
“Miss Hall-Bridges?” Walter said. “How is she?”
“Bored, I think,” said Sylvia. “I don’t know if she’ll be any less bored here, to be honest. But she says she can help with the house,” she gestured vaguely around them at the chaos, “so that’ll probably keep her busy until she’s about a hundred and ten. And it’ll be nice to have her about.”
Walter looked at her s
